


Eagle and Wolf

by coffeestainsandcashmere



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: But it's still sad, But this is just sad, Character Death, Death, Grief, I had an idea and ran with it, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Mention of Death, Older Characters, Open Ending, Reincarnation, Sad, Sad Story, Whump, ambiguous ending, and i'm really sorry, don't read if you're having a sad day, esca follows soon after, happy ending if you squint, i made myself cry writing this, i've got a happier story in the works though, marcus dies first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeestainsandcashmere/pseuds/coffeestainsandcashmere
Summary: Marcus dies first. Esca isn’t long behind.This is literally just whump, with only the faintest whiff of a happy ending, if you squint.
Relationships: Marcus Flavius Aquila/Esca Mac Cunoval
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Eagle and Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry, but I just couldn't get it out of my head. I do have something considerably longer and much happier in the works though. And thank you for welcoming me to the fandom so kindly with my other short story! (I’ve now finished the book too)

It had been the most stupid thing. A fall from a spooked horse who’d been reliable and solid all her life, and in a single, sickening instant, Esca’s happy life with Marcus on the farm was over. 

Marcus survived the fall, but he’d cracked his head on the stone road, and hadn’t stirred since. 

Esca had carried him back to their house, to their bed, slinging his weight between him and their neighbour’s solid shoulder. Three separate doctors had been summoned but they all said the same. If he wakes, it’ll be a miracle, and if he lives longer than a week, well, that too will be a miracle. 

“He’s in the hands of the gods now, friend,” the last doctor said with a hand on his shoulder that Esca couldn’t feel. “I’m sorry.”

Esca couldn't  _ breathe _ .

“Marcus…?” he choked, staring wild-eyed at the man lying in their bed. His face, lined with age and much laughter, had taken on an ashen pallor, and his eyes roved back and forth behind their lids, as if watching a play unfold that Esca couldn't see.

“Please don’t leave me, Marcus…” he whispered, fingers intertwined with Marcus’ own. 

Gods, his hands were so much bigger than Esca’s. So strong and rough after years of soldiering and then years of farming. And always,  _ always _ , those hands had been gentle. They were the hands of a craftsman, a builder. A lover. 

His once-dark hair was now mostly grey, and shot through with a heavy dusting of snowy white at the temples while Esca remained mousy red, but he had never been more beautiful to Esca than he had looked on that fateful morning on the road back from town. He’d been laughing until the damned horse had reared. 

“Please…” he sobbed, teeth clenching until his jaw hurt. He doubled over as raw pain hooked him in the gut and drove the air from his lungs in a long, broken wail. 

Resting his forehead on Marcus’ chest, Esca shattered. 

“Please don’t go. Your Roman gods will never let me come after you,” he cried into the fabric of Marcus’ tunic. “When I go, I’ll go to the hills where my family waits for me, I know it, but they’ll never let me come with you. I… please…  _ please  _ Marcus, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

Marcus’ eyes fluttered sightlessly open for an instant. “… _ sca _ …” he hissed and Esca shot upright, his guttering hope kindling. 

“Marcus?” 

His fingers twitched and he tried to speak, but nothing came out. A single tear rolled down through the freckled crows-feet beside Marcus’ closed eye, and disappeared into his hairline, but he didn’t speak and he didn’t wake. 

Marcus never woke. 

Their last words had been jovial and inconsequential, and Esca would have given anything — anything at all — to have that moment back; to tell him how precious he was to Esca, how beautiful, how strong, how wonderful, how gods-damned loving and gentle he was, and just how gods-damned- _ fiercely  _ Esca loved him. 

Esca caught Marcus’ last breath with his mouth, a tradition he knew the Romans shared with his own people, and kissed his still lips, eyes blinded with the tears that coursed unceasing down his cheeks and splashed onto Marcus’ skin. 

The funeral passed in a daze of heat and smoke and rippling air, and once the priests had gone, Esca crashed to his knees and watched the pyre burn down, taking his love and his heart with it. The wooden staves greyed to consuming ash and caved in, sending a swirl of sparks spiralling into the night in patterns not unlike those inked into Esca’s arm. Maybe he’d get another tattoo after this? But no. There would be no ‘after’. 

Three days later, Esca sat on the riverbank, turning his father’s dagger over and over in his fingers while tears still tracked down his cheeks. Then from the blue sky above, he heard a sound that made him jerk as if stung by a wasp. His eyes turned to the sky and above him, he saw an eagle. A huge, golden eagle circled the farm over and over. 

“Marcus?” he whispered, as if the bird could really be him. 

Again, the bird cried. Its piercing call shifted the shattered fragments of his heart like dry leaves in a coiling draft. 

“Is that you?” he asked, unbelieving. “How…? O Marcus, how am I supposed to go on without you? What am I without you?”

_ My wolf.  _ That’s what Marcus had always called him.  _ My wild Briton with the heart of a wolf.  _

Esca rose and left the dagger on the river bank. 

A week later, a young woman paused on the road that led to the farm and watched as a sleek, grey wolf ran through the meadow while a shadow swept along the grass beside it. She looked up and her eyes widened as a huge golden eagle swooped down from the sky and plucked playfully at the wolf’s shoulders before beating its wings and wheeling away with a shrill call above the oak and ash and beech trees beyond the open field. 

Eagle and wolf disappeared into the distance. 

The farm, when she reached it, was deserted.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry!! Check out the first dip of my toes into the Eagle fandom which is also short, but much _much _happier. You can find it[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141319)__


End file.
